Skip to content

Magic In His Hands

May 28, 2014
© Ezra Caldwell

© Ezra Caldwell

I lost a dear friend this week. A friend I never met in person, but it hurts no less.

Ezra Caldwell and I crossed paths eight years ago as bike-nerds often do, via the internet. He laughed at my fat-wheeled adventures and watched my children grow-up from the opposite side of the planet. I gawped slack-jawed at his beautiful photographs, his beautiful bicycles, his colourful friends in their colourful city. Half the time these New York domiciles were riding bikes, half the time they were dancing around naked, I had no preference. It was a window on a world far different to mine.

© Ezra Caldwell

© Ezra Caldwell

Across those eight years the dance instructor transitioned to bike builder, the bachelor married his beautiful girlfriend, and everything was documented on film and in pixels as only Ezra could.

Photography, bicycle fabrication, wood-working, cooking and writing… he excelled at damn near everything. This renaissance boy had magic in his hands.

Along the way he got sick, more than once. All the pain, the brutality, the physical and emotional scars of fighting cancer were openly discussed on his blog and through his photography. It was excruciatingly honest and a tough read for those who loved him.

© Ezra Caldwell

© Ezra Caldwell

© Ezra Caldwell

© Ezra Caldwell

© Ezra Caldwell

© Ezra Caldwell

Every time I lean a bike against a wall, camera in hand, I think of Ez. Every time I step outside my comfort-zone in the kitchen I think of him too. People like Ezra who seep into your life, delight your senses and influence your thinking are to be treasured, dead or alive. Rest in peace Fast Boy.

Take the time to read through the links below, soak-up his photos, watch the films. I’m guessing a little bit of Ezra Caldwell will rub off on you too.

A life in Pictures • The Bicycle Builder  •  The Photographer  •  The Battler

3 Comments
  1. May 29, 2014 7:41 pm

    this is beautiful Antoine. and so was he +his life to us reading+viewing his magic through our flickr universe and how it has brought us/grown us/transcended us in a linear matter. thanks for this.

    • May 29, 2014 10:30 pm

      Thank you Meli. I wish I’d had the opportunity to visit him, especially after that first remission. But, you know, it was half a world away and just not possible.
      Sitting around that kitchen table, drinking wine, eating gnocchi, talking shit and talking bikes… what an experience that would have been.

  2. August 6, 2014 3:32 am

    It is something, isn’t it, how you can get kind of attached to somebody over the internets like that? May have had something to do with his unvarnished honesty and the brilliant life he lived.

Comments are closed.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 62 other followers

%d bloggers like this: